Xana makes a gagging noise. “Hell no.” And walks out of the room.
I chuckle and look back at my friend when she’s out of sight. “Sounds like you’re implying strippers are easy, O.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I respect the hustle. The girls that go there to party know it’s a good way to find an easy guy who’s already horny from having pussy flashed in his face for hours.”
“Good point.” I chuckle. “Give me fifteen.”
I quickly get dressed and meet my friend back in the living room. Somehow my sister managed to find herself back out there and is giggling enough to make my ears bleed while she talks to him. I don’t plan on going to get laid but getting out and away from the demons in my head sounds like an offer I can’t pass up.
Since Bastian is still in the hospital I don’t have to worry about him. The Omen owns Insatiable, and it makes me hesitate, but I’ve allowed that man to dictate so much of my life without me even knowing, I won’t back down from this.
Oren and I pile into his new burnt-orange Lamborghini Urus and quickly try to get through traffic before the DC nightlife starts to come out to play.
“Why burnt-orange?” I ask trying to break the silence that’s come over the cab of the car.
He looks over at me and gives me a smile that I can only compare to mischievous. “Fire, my friend.”
I raise a questioning eyebrow at him, and his smile grows before he turns his attention back to the road. I feel like there’s more to his story there, but I don’t feel like diving deeper. I’ve known Oren since college, and I’ve never gotten the impression the man had a hard-on for pyro.
Then again, the man did have a full eighteen years before I met him so who knows.
“Bass gets out tomorrow, you said?” he asks, breaking through the once again silence.
I scoff. “I have a feeling he’s milked his injuries extensively just to tug at Xana’s heartstrings.”
Oren hums then pauses for a few seconds. “Does he have a thing for her?”
My head snaps to the side and I glare at my friend for his insinuation. I could see Bastian using Xana to piss me off, but I don’t think she would fall for that. Would she?
I run a hand down my face and curse under my breath.
“Xan has had three constants in her life: me, our Nonna, and Bastian,” I grumble. “One is now dead so that leaves Bass and me. I don’t know that it’s a ‘thing’ so much as it’s a ‘scrambling to make sure everyone gets along.’
“During the Malia thing I saw parts of Bass I hadn’t seen before, and I’ve known the cocksucker almost my whole life.” I swallow through the lump her name forms in my throat. “I wouldn’t put it past him to pull some shit like going for my sister just to be a petty bitch.”
Oren chuckles. “I’ll make myself scarce if that happens. I thought you were going to rip me in half when he was popping off about your girl. I’m not dying trying to save his life for your sister.” He looks over me and shrugs. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I say with a laugh. “But I might rip your throat out if you call her my girl one more time.”
His head tilts dramatically giving me a knowing look and I roll my eyes in response. “Watch the fucking road, dickhead.”
We get to the club without running into too much traffic and it’s already packed. It irks me that The Omen’s businesses are so successful, but I guess not everyone knows what kind of man runs these places. Not everyone has had a life built around a vendetta toward him like I have.
A line of people dressed in their nightclub best are filed on the street and round the corner waiting to enter the club. I groan when I see the amount of people we have to stand behind and Oren throws his arm over my shoulder and smirks.
“Ready to piss some people off?” he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. He jerks his chin and leads me up to the security guards that are checking IDs and pats one of them on the back like they’re old friends.
The guy turns around and he’s a bit shorter than both Oren and me. His dark eyes narrow when he turns around but a friendly smiles lights his face when he realizes who just interrupted him doing his job. I stand back and let the men exchange some words before the guard unhooks the stanchion signaling he’s letting us cut through.
We walk in and with all the people already inside it’s hard to get through. Music booms through the speakers and I can make out different smaller stage’s girls are dancing on, but too many people crowd the main stage I can’t see what’s going on there. Oren is pulling me in the opposite direction toward the bar and I’m finally able to make out a cage off to the side. Men and women are gathered around it whistling and catcalling.
Must be amateur night.
The crowd thins the closer we get to the bar, and we settle into some barstools that are off to the side to people-watch. A cute blonde in her early twenties that’s working the bar notices us and walks over with a smile on her face. She’s wearing a short black pleated skirt with suspenders and a white crop tank underneath.
“Chan.” Oren smiles, straightening in his seat when he catches sight of her. I snort at his enthusiasm. “They got you working the bar tonight, huh?”
The blonde Oren called Chan rolls her eyes and huffs, the air blowing stray pieces of hair that have fallen out of her messy bun.